


A Willing Slave

by Elthadriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Collars, Consent Issues, Dark Iron Bull, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elthadriel/pseuds/Elthadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing Dorian found more fulfilling than going to his knees for the Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was so proud of how I was writing shorter, more manageable fills and then I was asked for a sequel to this fill and here we are, almost 6000 words later. siiiigh
> 
>  
> 
> The orignal prompt:
> 
> What about an AU with Dorian as War Lord Bull's captive/body slave? I imagine Dorian would look lovely in chains... :3

Dorian was sure he had once been mortified about being made to to do this at all, never mind with an audience, had once fraught the Iron Bull tooth and nail, kicking and struggling, at every step but now he honestly could think of a place he would rather be than kneeling between the Iron Bull’s large thighs, sucking on him loudly. 

The emissary behind Dorian stuttered over his words and Dorian took the Iron Bull deeper into his mouth, causing him to grunt softly and shift slightly on his throne. One of the Iron Bull’s hands came to rest in Dorian’s hair briefly and the made eye-contract for a split second. The Iron Bull didn’t smile, never smiled at him in public, but his eyes softened slightly as Dorian gazed adoringly up at him. It was so rare that Bull made any acknowledgement of what Dorian was doing when they were hosting guests that Dorian couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at being good enough to get a noise out of the great warlord. 

He could feel the eyes of the hall on him. The other warriors barely paid him any mind these days, especially when they realised that the Iron Bull intended to make good on his promise to Dorian that no one else would be allowed to touch him. They were used to seeing him servicing their leader.

But the visiting diplomats, here to do something Dorian wasn’t privy to - probably beg for mercy, that was all people seemed to do these days - couldn’t stop gapping at him. They had gasped openly when Bull had tugged lightly on the chain connected to Dorian’s collar, pulling him out from where he sat behind the throne, resting where no one save the Bull’s most loyal warriors could see him. 

He wore even less clothing than most of the Iron Bull’s men and in far less modest places. It was clear from one look at him what his position was. He had supple black leather boots that came up to his mid-thigh, decorated with loops of gold. Bracers of similar colours covered his entire forearms and he had a corset-like wrap around his waist. It wasn’t actually tightened enough to actually have any effect on his figure, the Iron Bull liked him being able to breath comfortably, but it allowed for additional adornment. He had rings on his fingers and piercings across his face but otherwise he was bare save from the fine collar.

Dorian pulled off the Iron Bull to breathe. He rested his head against one of the Iron Bull’s thighs, painting. He knew there was spit and pre-come covering his chin and years ago he might have wanted to whip it away, rather than wearing it as a mark of pride. He wished he could reach down to touch his own straining erection but he knew his own pleasure was only to be granted at the Iron Bull’s command. 

He was about to duck back under the Iron Bull’s loin cloth and take the Iron Bull back into his mouth when he tugged on Dorian’s collar. Dorian sat back on his heals looking up waiting to find out what was wanted of him. Another firm tug had him clambering up onto the Iron Bull’s lap. He settled with his legs spread wide on either side of the Iron Bull’s lap. He arched his back, pushing his arse back so the Iron Bull’s cock rubbed between his checks while he pressed his chest against the large expanse of the Iron Bull. 

It had the additional affect of presenting the still distract ambassadors with a rather lovely view.

A sharp pinch to the inside of his thigh from the Iron Bull showed he hadn’t gotten away with the posturing, but the Iron Bull rubbed over the spot a moment later showing he wasn’t angry with Dorian.

Resting his forehead against the Iron Bull, Dorian reached back took a hold of the Iron Bull’s cock and raised his hips. He lined himself up and with one smooth moment side down onto the Iron Bull. It was tight but he was more than used to stretch and the waring pleasure and pain as he took the Iron Bull inside him.

He prepared himself himself every morning and made sure he remained loose enough for this throughout the day but his fingers, nor the toys the Iron Bull provided him with, could ever fully prepare him for the Iron Bull.

He took the Iron Bull to the hilt and took a moment to breathe, aware of the Iron Bull addressing the emissaries over his shoulder. The warlord’s voice didn’t hitch in the slightest even as Dorian started to cautiously roll his hips. Quiet moans, that he struggled to keep soft enough so that only the Iron Bull could hear them, escaped him as the Iron Bull shifted inside him, filling him completely and pressing against his prostate.

He was so hard it hurt.

He started to rise up, before pushing his hips back down, rubbing his face against the Iron Bull in hopelessly need for more stimulation even if he wasn’t allowed to come.

One of the Iron Bull’s hands came to rest on Dorian’s hip, and Dorian could feel the chain that connected them, still wrapped around the Iron Bull’s hand press into his side. The Iron Bull, rubbed his thumb back and forth across Dorian’s

Dorian’s rhythm stuttered as a new angle pushed Bull even deeper. Dorian let out a soft keen that, unlike his low moans, could definitely be heard by the Iron Bull’s guests. The man who was taking cut off and Dorian new from the times the Iron Bull had fucked him so he was facing foreign diplomats that he would be staring slack-jawed at Dorian, his train of though completely vanished.

It spurred Dorian into increasing the pace and ferocity of riding the Iron Bull, hands coming to rest on the Iron shoulders rather than his chest so he had better leverage. His own cock was leaking on both him and the Iron Bull and he tried desperately to ignore it and stay on task.

The Iron Bull’s other hand grabbed Dorian’s other hip without warning, and he slammed Dorian back down, burring himself deep inside Dorian as he came. Dorian reached down and grabbed his own cock tightly around the base to keep himself from falling over the edge as well but he thrashed in the Iron Bull’s arms at his own denial. 

The Iron Bull made a soft grunt and his face twitched but he showed now other outwards sign of his orgasm.

The Iron Bull allowed Dorian to rest a moment, the Iron Bull’s cock softening inside him. Dorian was still hard and leaking against the Iron Bull and he almost sobbed at the effort of not reaching out to finish himself off.

He was flushed and sweaty and desperately needy but he was also well trained. He wouldn’t do anything without the Iron Bull’s permission.

The Iron Bull broke his own rule of not addressing Dorian in public and leant forward, his mouth against Dorian’s ear.

“Wait for tonight, Little ‘Vint. I’ll make you scream.” His voice was low, and full of promise. The Iron Bull never made claims he didn’t intend to keep.

Dorian gasped, grasping at the Iron Bull’s shoulders before a tug of his leash reminded him of his place. Dorian pulled himself off the Iron Bull’s cock and slid the floor. He tucked the Iron Bull away and collapsed on the ground, resting against the Iron Bull’s legs as he continued the diplomatic meeting.

Dorian’s legs fell open and he knew that at least half of the ambassadors were staring at his erect cock, but after the IronBull’s promise their attention seemed completely underwhelming. He would crawl back behind the throne for some privacy soon, but for now he wanted to be touching the Iron Bull.

He could wait for tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Dorian was lead through to a small room off the Iron Bull’s quarters to bathe after the emissaries had left and most of the warriors, including the Iron Bull, had gone to eat. Originally, Dorian had been washed and dressed by servants, but by this point he was trusted to do it himself, only getting help when he requested it.

Bathing was the only time his collar was removed, all the doors were locked from the outside and there was a guard stationed outside to watch him. Once he had planned that this would be his best chance of escape, but now the missing weight around his neck made him anxious.

He cleaned quickly but thoroughly, pressing fingers inside himself to make sure he was entirely completely clean. He applied scented oils from the collection that the Iron Bull had commented on enjoying before climbing out of the water and patting himself dry.

He knocked on the door to indicate he was out of the water and the door was opened. Krem stepped into the room looking rather put out, and collected Dorian’s collar from where it was resting.

Only the Iron Bull had the key to his collar, meaning one of the Iron Bull’s most trusted men was also present at the start and end of his baths to deal with the collar as only they would be trusted with having the key, even only temporarily. It was rarely Krem however, the Iron Bull’s second in command generally had more important things to do.

Dorian dropped to his knees as Krem approaches though it raises Dorian’s hackles to kneel for anyone other than the Iron Bull.

Krem closed the collar around roughly around Dorian’s neck.

“Not so tight,” Dorian hissed, wincing.

Krem shot him a sharp look and Dorian fell silent, staring down at the floor. Krem was more gentle with the collar however.

“The Iron Bull wants you to wear your present tonight, said you’d know what that meant.”

Dorian knew exactly what the Iron Bull meant. Earlier that week the Iron Bull had presented him with a new butt plug, that he had yet to be use. It was designed with a larger base so it could be easily played with from the outside. It wasn’t the largest thing he had taken, even the Iron Bull himself, and the times the Iron Bull had worked multiple dildos inside him at the same time, aside, it wasn’t the largest he had taken. But it was perfectly curved and ridged and the large base made it jostle tauntingly at even the slightest moment.

Dorian collected it from its box, and with a suitable amount of lube worked it inside himself, not even considering feeling shame even though Krem was still standing right there.. He had always been sensitive, and Dorian would swear he had become more so since he had taken his place as the Iron Bull’s body slave, but he was good enough not to dwell on the pleasant feelings the toy caused as it settled inside him.

Krem was watching but he seemed more interested than aroused, a sentiment Dorian was used to from the Iron Bull’s men. They wanted to know what was so special about Dorian that the Iron Bull had kept him around so long, and was completely unwilling to share him.

Dorian straightened up, drawing in a shaky breath as the toy moved. The Iron Bull would never know if he got himself off before getting dressed again, but despite the instant relief that would provide he knew waiting for the Iron Bull’s approval would make it better

He stumbled on the first step, the toy pressing more firmly against his prostate that he expected and Krem darted forward to catch him on instinct.

“I can manage,” Dorian snapped, pulling away. Although it happened regularly by necessity, he didn’t like people other than the Iron Bull touching him.

Krem’s jaw tightened, and Dorian cursed himself internally.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” Krem was coldly and Dorian started at the floor, trying to look repentant.

They had got off to a poor start, Dorian not understanding how Krem could willingly work against their shared home, and he had screamed all manner of curses and slurs at him. Even as Dorian had come to understand why people served the Iron Bull as he and Krem did, they had never quite gotten past that introduction.

Dorian still shouldn’t address Krem like that; the Iron Bull wouldn’t like it.

“Wait in the Iron Bull’s room for him once you are dressed,” Krem said sharply, turning away.

After Krem left Dorian started to dress himself, choosing carefully from the impressive collection available to him. Sometimes, as with the toy currently inside him the Iron Bull had specific requests but often Dorian was left to choose for himself. He was good at guessing what the Iron Bull would approve of.

He collected several lengths of pale blue, accented with inch wide lines of silver, cloth of varying widths. The material was so thin it was were see-through unless doubled over.

He started to bind his feet leaving his toes and heel bare but wrapping the middle of his foot before working up his leg in a criss-cross pattern up to his knee where he tied it off in an attractive knot. He leant against the wall to work, to avoid sitting on the plug.

The other leg soon followed.

The widest piece of cloth was wrapped around his middle, sitting low on his hips and only just coming low enough to cover his arse. It wrapped around a couple of times however, just thick enough to not be see through. Finally he wrapped a piece across his chest, tying a flat knot at the side but spinning it around to the back so the extra cloth dangled attractively.

He knocked on the door again and a servant came in to collect the other end of his leash and lead him through to the other room.

Dorian’s chain was attached to bed but it was long enough that he could move around most of the room. The bed was large and inviting, covered in thick, soft furs, and he wanted to burrow into it . Instead he settled on a large, thick rug that lay beside the bed.

A generous number of pillows lay at one end of the rug and Dorian lay against them, planning to doze until the Iron Bull arrived. He was given a blanket to sleep under in the winter months but it was currently warm enough that he could happily do without.

He was brought food, and cutlery to eat it. He had learned during his training that this, like his pillows, and many other things, were privileges that he could earn and lose the right to. The better behaved he was, the better he would be taken care of. Considering how well he was treated was now, he didn’t that he had fought so hard he was left starving and shivering on the hard floor seemed ridiculous.

The Iron Bull would spend time with his men in the evening or with his war council, but Dorian hoped he wouldn’t spend too long drinking. He wasn’t hard anymore but he still had a low level buzzing of need under his skin. It had been days since he had been allowed to come and he was desperate.

He finally stood up and collected a book from one of the shelves, another right he had had to earn, and settled back on his rug. He lay on his chest, the book resting in front of him, as sitting with the plug already pressing at his insides would only make the need to be touched worse.

The Iron Bull didn’t make him wait too long and as soon as Dorian heard movement at the door he pushed the book into the bottom shelf of the bedside table, a shelf unofficially reserved for his few possessions, and rolled onto his side, looking intently at the door.

The Iron Bull striped off as soon as the door was closed, his clothes being abandoned on the floor where servants could deal with them later. He threw Dorian and easy smile and Dorian pushed himself up onto an elbow, heart pounding with excitement.

“Up on the bed, Dorian,” the Iron Bull said as he passed, heading over to wash his face in a bowl of fresh water waiting on his table.

Dorian scrambled to obey.

The Iron Bull, came back over to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down over Dorian.

“Nice,” he said, voice low enough it was almost a growl and pleasure blossomed in Dorian’s chest. “Do you like your gift?” The Iron Bull moved his hand in a circular motion, and Dorian turned on the bed, dropping his elbows down and spreading his legs to present his arse to the Iron Bull. The cloth around his waist was short enough that in this position it didn’t hide anything.

Dorian inhaled sharply as he felt the Iron Bull touch the base of the plug. He knew the Iron Bull was tying a length of silk to the end and his suspicions were confirmed when the Iron Bull started attaching the other end to his collar. The silk tugged on the toy, pushing it deeper into him and rubbing it tauntingly against his prostate and he completely lost his train of thought as he whined and rolled his hips against the air, seeking friction.

“I asked you a question, Dorian.” The Iron Bull didn’t sound angry; it was only a light reprimand.

“Yes, Iron Bull,” Dorian said, straining to sound calm. “Thank you.”

“Good.” A hand stroked Dorian’s flank. “Arch.”

Dorian arched his back and the silk was pulled tight, forcing him to hold the wanton position as any attempt to relax pulled the plug deeper inside him and the collar uncomfortably against his neck, though the collar’s shape made it hard for it to seriously risk cutting off his air. Once the Iron Bull had made him fuck himself in a set up like this while the Qunari slowly stroked himself. While Dorian had preened under the attention he hoped that wasn’t want the Iron Bull had planned for tonight. After the display for the visitors he wanted the Iron Bull to fuck him hard into the bed.

The Iron Bull settled on the bed, against the pillows, and carefully helped Dorian into his lap. Dorian’s chest pressed hard against the Iron Bull’s chest, while his arse jutted outwards. Bull’s thigh, resting between his legs, providing him something to rub against. He let his face drop against the Iron Bull’s skin.

The Iron Bull ran his hands over Dorian’s skin, fingers slipping under the wrap around Dorian’s upper chest to tug on the studs pierced through his nipples. Dorian jerked his hips against the Iron Bull’s thigh. The Iron Bull chuckled and returned to feeling every part of Dorian’s skin, though very deliberately avoiding Dorian’s cock.

“I hear you were rude to Krem,” the Iron Bull said conversationally after a little while, running a hand through Dorian’s hair.

Dorian whined, and tried to hide his face more against the Iron Bull’s chest, shuddering as the new position put greater pressure on the plug.

“You aren’t to speak to men like that, Dorian,” the Iron Bull said. “You belong to me but you are to treat them with the highest respect and you know that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Dorian remembered how surprised he’d been when the fight had finally left him and he’s learned how gentle the Iron Bull, Scourge of Tevinter, was when Dorian tried to please him. “But that doesn’t undo your actions. You should be punished.”

Dorian didn’t say anything.

“I could spank this pretty ass raw,” the Iron Bull said, dropping both hands to grip Dorian’s arse, fingers pressing firmly into the round flesh. “You wouldn’t be able to ride tomorrow, I’d have to throw you over the back of my horse, rear bare, and red, and everyone would know exactly why you weren’t on your own mount.”

Dorian whimpered rubbing more firmly against the Iron Bull. “Please.”

The Iron Bull laughed, placing a kiss on Dorian’s forehead. “Maybe some other time, pet. You’ve been so good recently, after all.”

Dorian wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“I’m going to let you come tonight.” The Iron Bull finally dropped one hand and painful gently closed a loose fist around Dorian’s cock.

“Thank you,” Dorian said automatically, almost trembling with the effort of keeping still and not thrusting into the Iron Bull’s hand. Above him, the Iron Bull laughed.

“But, as you were rude earlier, first we’re going to have to make you earn that right.” The Iron Bull’s other hand came to play with plug.

The Iron Bull tightened his grip on Dorian’s cock and started to pump him slowly and Dorian let out a loud moan. He was always so grateful when he wasn’t expected to keep quiet, and from the way the Iron Bull pushed the toy in further and let out a low growl, it seemed he approved too. Dorian was loud by nature and forcing himself to be quiet when the Iron Bull was talking to other people was difficult.

Dorian felt heat pooling in his gut and spread across his whole body. The Iron Bull had denied him release far longer than the several days he had been made to wait this time, he had spent weeks in cock-cages after all, but even this felt like too long when the Iron Bull was touching and fucking him daily.

“You’ll tell me when you’re close,” the Iron Bull said. It wasn’t a question.

Dorian moaned loudly as the Iron Bull’s hands started working together to get him to the edge.

“Iron Bull,” Dorian gasped, slamming his hands onto his own thighs, gripping them tightly, and arching even more, though with the Iron Bull’s still toying with the plug it did nothing to alleviate any of the pressure. “I’m too close.”

The Iron Bull pulled his hand away from Dorian’s ass as the other gripped the base of Dorian’s cock. His free hand rubbed at Dorian’s back soothingly as Dorian was pulled from the edge. Dorian was too well trained to swear, and he knew he had brought this on himself, but he did have to bite hard on his lip to prevent himself.

The Iron Bull pushed Dorian onto his back and Dorian made an obscene noise at the manhandling, and how it jostled the toy still attached to his throat. The Iron Bull spread Dorian’s legs, but inside of kneeling between them as Dorian might have expected he dropped down so his mouth was inches from Dorian’s crotch. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Dorian’s thigh, chuckling at the squeak it draw from Dorian. He moved his head closer to Dorian’s cock, breathing a huff of air over it. As needy as Dorian was that was enough to cause it to twitch.

The Iron Bull took Dorian into his mouth and Dorian cried out at the wet heat around him. His screwed his eyes closed, trying to focus entirely on the sensation of the Iron Bull’s mouth around him. The Iron Bull must be happy with his performance lately, he hardly ever sucked Dorian off; it wasn’t fitting for someone to attend to their body slave like that.

“Iron Bull,” he whimpered, hands clenching into the sheets to stop himself doing something foolish like grabbing the Iron Bull’s horns. He was allowed to hold them when he was being fucked, but he didn’t dare make any presumptions that might ruin this moment. One of Bull’s hands went to Dorian’s hip, encouraging Dorian to rock into the Iron Bull’s mouth. The careful roll of his hips caused the toy to gently fuck him and combined with the feel of the Iron Bull’s throat was too much.

“I’m too close,” he whimpered which turned into a pained wail as the Iron Bull pulled off immediately. The Iron Bull’s hand remained on Dorian’s hip as Dorian thrashed through his denial.

“Please,” he whispered, tears streaking his cheeks. “Please, I need-”

He cut himself off with a wordless groan as the Iron Bull closed his mouth around the tip of Dorian’s cock, sucking and lapping at the leaking moisture intermittently. Bull slipped two of his fingers in beside the plug, pushing them in deep enough so he could take over rubbing Dorian’s prostate.

It barely took a minute to get Dorian to the edge again and he couldn’t even even summon the words to tell the Iron Bull how close he was. He brought one of his hands up to grab one of the Iron Bull’s shoulders, too desperate even to consider that he shouldn’t touch him without asking first. By the time the thought occurred to him it was too late to undo it and he reasoned that the Iron Bull would rather that than Dorian coming without permission.

This time the Iron Bull didn’t pull off but stopped moving and closed his other hand tight around the base of Dorian’s cock. It was even worse than before and Dorian slammed his head back against the bed with a pained cry. The Iron Bull only removed his mouth when the worst had already passed.

“Good boy.” The Iron Bull’s voice grounded him and he forced himself to focus on it. This was a punishment because he had been rude to Krem, but the Iron Bull was going to forgive him, had promised he’d come tonight. He could get through this.

“Good boy.” The Iron Bull repeated and Dorian wished he could see the Iron Bull’s face from his position.

The Iron Bull didn’t take Dorian into his mouth again but pulled Dorian’s hips onto his lap, cock rubbing at the cleft of his arse, legs on either side of his thick waist. The Iron Bull’s hands went back to stroking Dorian, though with more intent this time

“Iron Bull,” he warned, voice sounding almost pained.

“It’s all right, Pet.” The Iron Bull said, maintaining his pace. “You can let go.”

Dorian came with the Iron Bull’s name on his lips though it was mostly lost in a loud cry of ecstasy as he was finally allowed to come over himself and the Iron Bull’s hand. More tears were escaping his eyes and for a long moment there was nothing beyond the feeling of intense satisfaction.

Dorian panted, hands twisted in the bed sheets, and legs tight around the Iron Bull. His head felt light and empty and he knew he was lucky no demon had ever offered him this because it would a far stronger man than him to turn it down.

“You are stunning when you release,” the Iron Bull said, running his hands over Dorian, smoothing out the wrinkles forming in his clothes. Dorian let out a soft whimper at the praise. “I’ve never had anyone who lives up to how perfect your face is when you are finally given what you want.”

The Iron Bull sometimes took lovers to his bed and Dorian was relegated to the floor. At first Dorian had just been relieved as it meant he wasn’t expected to perform that night and would be left to sleep on the rug, and later he had been jealous of the Iron Bull giving others attention though he knew he had no right to feel that way. Now, while he may wish, secretly, because it was foolish for him to even entertain the fantasy, never mind sharing it, that he could have the great Warlord to himself, that the Iron Bull would never desire anyone other than Dorian, he had accepted it was the way of the world and he had no reason to feel threatened by them.

One of the lovers the Iron Bull had allowed into his room had tried to make Dorian suck him off while the Iron Bull was absent and had slapped Dorian when he refused. The Iron Bull had been furious, kicking the man not only out of his room, but out of his lands entirely, for daring to try and claim what was the Iron Bull’s. He had fuss over Dorian after that, praising him all the while about how good he had been.

The Iron Bull’s lovers were temporary things but Dorian was permanent.

In the present, the Iron Bull’s hand, covered in Dorian’s load was presented to him and Dorian started to lick the Iron Bull’s hand clean without having to be asked. The Iron Bull cupped his face with the same hand once Dorian was done and lent to press a kiss to Dorian’s forehead.

Sometimes the Iron Bull ripped Dorian’s clothes off him, would come in and bend him over the closest object without a word and fuck Dorian like an animal until Dorian was hoarse from screaming. For days after Dorian would be uncomfortable sitting, and he would flush whenever the Iron Bull raised an eyebrow at his shifting.

Dorian liked it better when the Iron Bull was like this however, taking the time to undo Dorian’s careful knots with his large fingers, looking down at Dorian like he was unwrapping the greatest gift in Thedas; it was especially pleasant when he had already pliant and sensitive from an orgasm. The Iron Bull started with the material around his feet, undoing the tiny knot at Dorian’s knee and gently unwrapping his leg. He placed it back on the bed and started on the other.

Next he ran his hands over the binding around Dorian’s chest, pinching and twisting Dorian’s nipples though the material before turning his attention to the knot. He slipped it from under Dorian and leant down to lick a stripe over one of Dorian’s hard nipples and then closed his teeth around it, tugging gently. He released Dorian when Dorian made a keening noise.

The Iron Bull folded the removed material and added to the pile of things he’d already removed.

Finally, the Iron Bull removed the piece around Dorian’s waist, stained with pre-come and pushed higher than it should have been from where the Iron Bull had pushed it up for better access. Finally Dorian was naked, all dark smooth skin and subtle muscle, and spread out in front of the Iron Bull and the Qunari’s gaze turned predatory. The Iron Bull was already hard, had been since before the first time Dorian had been denied, and now Dorian was staring at it, almost drooling at the sight. Having the Iron Bull’s large cock inside him never seemed to grow old.

“Turn over,” the Iron Bull ordered, smirking knowing, seeing Dorian’s gaze. “Don’t worry, pet, you’ll have it in you soon enough. You’re such a greedy boy.” The Iron Bull got up on his knees to get the end of Dorian’s leash that was attached to the bed, removing it and wrapping it around his hand instead. “You’re lucky it was me that found you. No one else would be able satisfy your needy little hole.”

Dorian whined and didn’t say anything but internally he was forced to agree. He rolled carefully onto his front, weary of the toy, and got up onto his knees, chest pressed against the bed, legs spread as far as he could get them, far enough to feel the strain on the inside of his thighs. Even if the toy hadn’t been guaranteeing his position, he would have been arching his arse up as high as he could.

The Iron Bull returned to him, kneeling between Dorian’s legs before reaching to spread Dorian’s cheeks, shifting forward so his knees were by Dorian’s and a careful nudge from the Iron Bull had Dorian spreading himself even further with a soft whimper at the stretch.

The Iron Bull rubbed a thumb over Dorian’s hole giving a pleased rumble as Dorian whined under him.

“I shouldn’t let you come twice in one evening,” the Iron Bull said with a sigh. “I’ll spoil you.”

“Please,” Dorian said, knowing it was what the Iron Bull wanted from him. he punctuated the request with a desperate gasp as the Iron Bull pushed two fingers into him, checking the toy had made him loose enough.

“I should never have agreed not to share you, with the promise of you beneath them in return, begging so prettily, no one would deny me anything.” Dorian could feel the cold metal of his chain pressing up against his arse.

The Iron Bull removed his fingers, pouring more oil over Dorian’s hole and some onto his own cock. It was almost certainly unnecessary but the Iron Bull at admitted to loving the sight of it leaking out of Dorian’s hole, and the feel of it dribbling down his thighs made Dorian feel gloriously filthy.

He carefully lined himself up and pushed, torturously slowly the tip of his cock into Dorian.

Dorian had been filled only earlier that day but post orgasm, and already starting to harden again, he found himself desperate to be filled to his limit all over again. “Please.”

The Iron Bull rolled his hips but barely pushed in another half inch and Dorian could do nothing but accept it. When the Iron Bull next moved it was with one, smooth thrust, seating himself firmly within Dorian, hips pressed flush against Dorian’s arse, in one movement. Dorian, bit into his own forearm, not to stifle the loud, desperate noises escaping him, but as hopeless attempt to combat the over-stimulation and all consuming pleasure cause by the intensity of being so thoroughly filled by the Iron Bull. He knew noises were still escaping him around his arm.

The Iron Bull himself let out a long, low grown. “I could never share you,” he said. “Knowing that I’m the only person who gets to have you like this.” He growled and Dorian’s cock twitched.

“Just for you,” Dorian mumbled into the bed, clenching around the Iron Bull, trying to spur him into moving. He got a light slap on his butt for the trouble but it too gentle to be a real punishment and the Iron Bull laughed above him.

“I’m going to let you come again,” the Iron Bull said, as Dorian suspected he would. The Iron Bull knew how to keep from risking Dorian starting to feel entitled to anything, but the Iron Bull enjoyed watching him come far too much to deny him too often. The evening were the Iron Bull would bring him off, over and over, until his cock had nothing left to give and his orgasams were more pain than pleasure, just so the Iron Bull could watch his face, gave those feelings away.

The Iron Bull started thrusting, slowly at first, deliberate, powerful strokes that seemed to rack Dorian’s whole body and had him making loud, wanton noises. The first time he had seen the Iron Bull hard he had been certain that there was no way he would be able to fit it in him, that he would be crippled in the attempt, but now he couldn’t understand how he had settled for anything smaller.

The Iron Bull increased his pace, hands roaming over Dorian’s body, sometimes light and teasing sometimes gripping him tight enough to bruise. He began to thrust fast and Dorian’s moaning became more pronounced as he was fucked more thoroughly. Each time the Iron Bull’s hips met his hip he was driven into the bed and he felt like he might split apart from the pleasure. His skin felt hot and he felt indescribably complete when the Iron Bull was fully inside him.

The Iron Bull tugged at the leash, not firmly enough to make Dorian rise up off the bed, or to signify that something was expected of him but as a reminder to both of them it was there. It made Dorian mad with lust.

The Iron Bull dropped one hand, the one still holding Dorian’s lead down beside Dorian’s head, chest pressing against Dorian’s back and reached around and twisted on of Dorian’s nipples sharply. Dorian yelped, torn between pain and pleasure, unable to really push into any sensation but only take what was given to him. The Iron Bull chuckled and closed his mouth around Dorian’s neck, sucking and biting, leaving an angry red mark.

He could hear the Iron Bull’s heavy breathe in his ear. It was animalistic in way that reminded Dorian how small he was in comparison to the Iron Bull and how totally outmatched he was in strength. The Iron Bull might be far smarter than Dorian had ever given the Qunari credit for but there was an undeniable wild power to him.

A power that could totally dominate Dorian.

Dorian was so painfully close, torn between the stretch and the pounding of his prostate, his cock was aching between his legs but the position gave him nothing to rub against, and the Iron Bull seemed to have no intention of helping him again.

“Please,” he stammered, trying to fight back his noises of pleasure long enough to speak. “Iron Bull, let me come, please.”

The Iron Bull straightened up and grabbed Dorian’s hips, hauling him into a position where he could grind mercilessly against his prostate.

“You come from my cock in you or not at all.”

Dorian wailed, but never even considered disobeying. The grinding was intense but provided none of the relief he was craving, and just when Dorian thought he might catch on fire from lust, the Iron Bull pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, and Dorian was pushed completely over the edge.

Dorian came with a loud cry, clenching around the Iron Bull and gripping tightly the parts of the Qunari he could reach. The Iron Bull’s hand seized the back of Dorian’s collar, pressing him firmly down into the bed, thrusting into him with frenzied intensity that had Dorian, keening and whimpering softly. His noises were drowned out however by the Iron Bull’s far more contained, but still loud, moans every he had Dorian’s tight ass clenched around him.

The Iron Bull came with only the barest sound, a low satisfied groan, even as Dorian knew he was being filled. The Iron Bull dropped his head down, resting it a second on Dorian’s back before he straightened up again.

“Damn,” the Iron Bull said, slightly out of breath. “Damn. You never fail to impress me, Dorian.”

Dorian reached back and, after hesitating long enough that the Iron Bull would have warned him if it wasn’t allowed, closed one of his hands lightly over the hand Iron Bull was gripping his collar with. The Iron Bull allowed them to remain like that a moment, both blissed out, Dorian still filled and both of them holding Dorian’s collar.

Finally, the Iron Bull pulled his hand from under Dorian’s and he had to bite back a whine. The Iron Bull pulled himself out of Dorian, but a hand on his hip kept Dorian in the same position.

The plug was reinserted, though not tried back to his throat, keeping the Iron Bull’s come inside him and while Dorian loved knowing the Iron Bull's come was still inside him he couldn’t help but whimper as the toy settled inside him, over-sensitive from the orgasm. It also failed to fill him the way the Iron Bull had and he was left stretched but not satisfied.

The Iron Bull gave Dorian’s arse a pleased pat.

Sometimes Dorian was sent back to sleep on the floor after the Iron Bull was finished with him and it had taken Dorian a long time to realise that was not a punishment; he had learned to stop viewing the world through his own wants and desires but the Iron Bull’s. If the Iron Bull did not feel like sharing his bed then Dorian would sleep on the floor, if he wanted Dorian pressed against him that’s where Dorian would be, regardless of how good or bad he had been. If the Iron Bull seriously wished to see Dorian punished, he would know.

Tonight however, Dorian was allowed to remain on the bed. The Iron Bull pulled Dorian on top of him, one hand playing with the base of the plug, sometimes pushing a finger in alongside it, just to watch Dorian wiggle and squirm.

“I’ve been thinking about branding you,” the Iron Bull said, tone suggesting he was thinking aloud. “Mark your ass with my heraldry so everyone knows who you belong to. But, it’s such a wonderful ass, I’m not sure I want to blemish it with anything.”

If Dorian had been allowed to masterbate the thought of being so perminately marked as belonging to the Iron Bull would have been used to fuel his sessions for months. He was so proud of how he looked, he always had been, and a brand like that would mean that no one could ever enjoy the way he looked without thinking about the Iron Bull again. He could dedicate even more of himself to the Iron Bull.

The Iron Bull seemed to pick up on Dorian’s interest and laughed, petting his hair. “It’s something to consider. I’ll let you know what I decide.”

He sighed and shifted on the bed, adjusting Dorian so he was lying where it was most comfortable for the Iron Bull.

“I’m going to fuck you again tomorrow, come deep in that gloriously tight ass of yours.” The Iron Bull said, finally taking his hands away from Dorian’s over-sensitive hole. “Then you’re going to put in one of your smaller plugs and keep me in you all day.”

Dorian whined. He knew there were planning to be riding for most of the next day and even with one of the smallest plugs he had it would be torturous sitting on a horse, with every step causing the toy to shift inside him.

“My perfect, beautiful boy,” the Iron Bull said, and Dorian couldn’t help but release a contented sigh. There was no better feeling than knowing he had please the Iron Bull.

“I love you,” Dorian murmured, still floating from the orgasms. He had heard other body slaves say it to their masters, normally prompted by a tug on their choke collars, or a hand tightening around them, but their Iron Bull had never forced him to say them. It was painful how true they were however.

The Iron Bull hummed his approval but said nothing.

The Iron Bull hadn’t reattached his chain to the bed, but was still holding it himself and Dorian felt warm in a very different way to the usual arousal. He liked it best when the Iron Bull was holding his leash directly.

He nuzzled at the Iron Bull’s neck.

“Go to sleep, pet,” the Iron Bull rumbled.


	3. The Iron Bull's Property

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was commissioned to write about the event mentioned in the previous chapter, where Dorian recalls a time when one of the Iron Bull's lovers tries to force himself on Dorian in the Iron Bull absence. So, have some more Dark!Iron Bull and Dorian who really deserves so much better than everything that happens to him in this fic, even if he doesn't know it.
> 
> If you're interested in commisioning me, you can find my info [here](http://elthadriel.tumblr.com/commission)

Dorian hadn’t slept well.

 

He tried his best to make sure he was always well-rested, so he could be at his absolute best for the Iron Bull, but the Iron Bull fucking other people always kept him awake. Even after the sounds of moaning, the filthy slapping of skin on skin, and the Iron Bull’s low rumble had faded, and the Iron Bull and his (sometimes many) bedpartners had fallen asleep, Dorian still couldn’t sleep. The problem was of course that while Dorian might refer to it as the Iron Bull fucking them, that wasn’t actually what was occurring. The Iron Bull fucked Dorian, but he had sex with other people, people who were his equals.

 

Dorian woke long before the Iron Bull and the ambassador who was currently curled against his side, and he lay quietly trying to find comfort in the Iron Bull’s steady breathing. The attempt was ruined by Roberto Pasara’s breath muddling with the Iron Bull’s. Dorian huddled on his rug, blanket over him thick and warm, showing the Iron Bull’s pleasure at his recent good behaviour, but somehow he still felt cold.

 

He could probably had climbed to his feet and unhooked where the chain attached this collar was fastened to the side of the Iron Bull’s bed. The Iron Bull likely would only punish him a little for doing so if Dorian just went through to his baths, but the Iron Bull had been so proud of him lately he couldn’t handle disappointing his master.

 

He buried his head between two pillows, and squeezed his eyes shut, but while he could block out the sound of Roberto, he couldn’t stop himself for thinking how replaceable he was to the Iron Bull. Laying on the floor while the Iron Bull pleasured, and was pleasured, by someone else was hard enough. Dorian didn’t know what he would do if he was cast aside completely.

 

He sensed movement behind him only a little later, and Dorian turned to watch the Iron Bull sit up in the bed, swinging his feet over the side and stretching.

 

Dorian ran his eyes over the Iron Bull’s body, wishing the Iron Bull’s large hands had been on him last night, and he had been the one curled against his side instead of the ambassador. The Iron Bull caught his gaze and leered. Dorian flushed and looked away while the Iron Bull chuckled. The Iron Bull had a lot of rules, but he had never stopped Dorian from looking him in the eye.

 

Roberto stirred the next moment, reaching for the Iron Bull who avoided his grasp with a grin, before allowing himself to be tugged back down into a kiss.

 

Dorian looked away.

 

It didn’t last as long as Roberto might have liked however, based on his sleepy scowl. Before long the Iron Bull stood up and started dressing himself, leaving the ambassador on the bed.

 

“I need to speak to some of my men about their orders for the next few days,” The Iron Bull said, pulling on his trousers. When he was holding court he would dress more finely, and apply war paint to his already-tattooed body, but he didn’t need to work to impress his men. “I should only be a couple of hours.”

 

“And am I to remain and early await your return?” Roberto drawled, lounging against the pillows.

 

The Iron Bull grinned. “I’m sure I could make it worth your while if you did. We only just got started last night, after all.”

 

Roberto let out a dramatic sigh.

 

“Sleep some more,” the Iron Bull advised, buckling his boots. “You’re going to need your energy.”

 

For a moment Dorian feared he was going to be ignored but the Iron Bull crossed the room to him. Dorian hurried to his knees, casting off the blanket and resisting the urge to shiver when the cold air hit his bare skin.

  
“Stay here, pet,” the Iron Bull said, cupping the side of Dorian’s face. He smiled fondly at Dorian, running his thumb across Dorian’s cheekbone, who leaned into the touch. “Be good,” Bull added.

 

Dorian nodded and the Bull’s smile widened.  His hand dropped away and then the Iron Bull was at the door.

 

“Krem’s outside if you need him,” the Iron Bull said to Roberto, who made an affirmative noise, but didn’t move from where he lay in the bed. The Iron Bull left the room, the door banging shut behind him, and everything was silent.

 

Dorian lay back down, covering himself with the blanket. He was so used to being naked now he hardly noticed it, but now he was alone in the room with someone other than the Iron Bull he felt acutely aware of it. At least Roberto seemed content to remain in the bed and doze.

 

Dorian didn’t sleep, but watched the shape of Roberto under the covers, fantasising about scenarios after Roberto would leave when the Iron Bull would fuck him gently, and tell him how much better than Roberto he was. He was doing his best not to think about this from his point of view, and only the Iron Bull’s, but it was hard without the Iron Bull there to guide him.

 

Dorian’s luck didn’t hold, and after a little while Roberto tired of waiting and rolled out of the bed to his feet. He rose up on his toes in a stretch, shoulders and back clicking. He didn’t turn to acknowledge Dorian but walked padded across the room to examine one of the bookcases, running a finger along the spines as he read them.  Dorian watched him uneasily; he didn’t like the way Roberto was looking over the Iron Bull’s things, though he supposed there was very little harm in looking at the books.

 

Roberto was a handsome man, his golden brown skin looked soft and smooth, and aside from the marks the Iron Bull had left it was completely unmarred. He had a strong jaw and a devastating profile, with full lips and warm brown eyes. Dorian knew he had no reason to doubt his own attractiveness, but he still felt slightly jealous. He wished Roberto would return to the bed and sleep, because while he was moving Dorian couldn’t relax.

 

Roberto abandoned the books, walking over to the Iron Bull’s desk, idly pushing around some of the scattered reports, and examining some of the loose items, generally gifts from other visitors, laying on the desk.

 

It didn’t long before he tired of that as well, and he turned his attention to Dorian.

 

“You’re the Iron Bull’s body slave, correct?” he asked, and Dorian couldn’t help but feel he sounded far too arrogant for someone who had been begging for the Iron Bull’s cock in his presence on the night before. Dorian didn’t want to answer, but he couldn’t really think of a good reason not to so he nodded slowly, getting back to his knees, but keeping the blanket covering him as best he could.

 

Roberto nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment, glancing over at the door and then back to Dorian. “It looks like your master won’t be back for a while yet, and frankly waking up in his bed as rather put me in the mood for getting off.” He leered. “I’m sure you can understand.”

 

Dorian felt himself freeze in place, and the room suddenly felt too small. He could sense what was coming and felt trapped.

 

“So, do be a good slave, and suck me off,” Roberto smiled, and Dorian could imagine that at one point he might very well have wanted to fall into bed with some Roberto and his charming smile, despite his shortcomings as a person.

 

“No,” he said softly. The Iron Bull had told him to be good, and he was sure that included being polite to the Iron Bull’s company, but he had promised that no one other than him would ever touch Dorian. Dorian hoped he was making the right choice by refusing.

 

Roberto’s smile dropped, the hint of something unpleasant darkening his features. “Excuse me? I gave you an order and I expect you to obey.”

 

“I belong to the Iron Bull, only he’s allowed to touch me.”

 

“Fucking whore,” Roberto snarled, attitude changing immediately on being denied. “You are in no position to deny me, your master told you to be good if I recall.  I suggest you do as I damn well tell you.”

 

Dorian dug his nails into the palms of his hands, his chest tightening. “I’m not supposed to service anyone but the Iron Bull.”

 

“It’s possible you failed to notice while you were cowering on the floor, but I had the Iron Bull’s mouth on me last night. I can’t imagine he would be willing to suck me off himself, but would think _your_ hot mouth is somehow too good for it.” Dorian still didn’t respond, and Roberto gave an exasperated sigh as he changed tactics. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

 

“No,” Dorian said again, looking up to meet Roberto’s gaze. He wanted this man to leave him alone, but he sensed it wasn’t going to happen; he knew Roberto’s type, remembered all too well that kind of entitlement. Roberto would almost certainly report him to the Iron Bull, who would undoubtedly be furious at Dorian angering an ambassador.

 

Roberto half bent down, grabbing Dorian roughly by his hair, wrenching Dorian’s head back, face uncomfortably close. “I’m not about to be denied by a slave. I suggest you make this easy on yourself before things get really unpleasant.”

 

Dorian glared up at Roberto, rising up to try and take the pressure of his head. The change in elevation didn’t help and he felt some of his hair be ripped out at the scalp. Dorian didn’t say anything, but his silence, and his mouth, still closed in a tight line, seemed to say enough to Roberto. Dorian’s hair was released, but there was only a second of delay before Dorian was backhanded across the face.

 

Dorian was expecting it, but that didn’t stop the force from the blow knocking him to the ground. His blanket had fallen away, and Roberto was leering down at him, eyes roaming over Dorian’s body. Dorian felt his checks grew hot. He didn’t try cover himself again, not wanting to show weakness to Roberto, but he really didn’t want Roberto’s hands on his bare skin; his gaze was bad enough.

 

Dorian tried to crawl away; he may not be able to fight back, but he didn’t have to sit and take the abuse. He accepted punishments from the Iron Bull without complaint, but he wouldn’t from this man. Before he could make it even a couple of metres, Roberto seized his leash and tugged, hauling Dorian back to him.

 

Dorian let out a strangled grasp, grabbing at his collar to try and elevate some of the pressure. Roberto was in front of him again, one hands still holding the leash tight, the other holding his hardening cock. Dorian squirmed, trying to pull away with little success. Roberto pushed the leaking head of his cock against Dorian’s sealed lips, tugging at the lead more insistently as he tried to force Dorian to open his mouth.

 

Before Dorian could think better of it he snapped at Roberto’s cock, not coming even close to making contact but the threat pushed Roberto into an even greater rage.

 

Roberto’s knee collided with Dorian’s face, and he cried out as he fell back to the floor, his head released. Roberto landed two kicks to his ribs and stomach and Dorian curled tightly up into a ball. He could only be grateful that Roberto wasn’t wearing his boots.

 

Before Roberto could land another hit the door to the Iron Bull’s room was thrown open. Krem stood framed in the doorway, one hand on his sword, the other curled into a fist. Dorian almost sobbed in relief; he might be punished for this, but at least his torment at Roberto’s hands was done.

 

Krem had taken in the scene and had dragged Roberto away from Dorian before the man could even get a word in. Roberto tugged his arm from Krem’s grip. Krem allowed it, but remained between Roberto and Dorian.

 

“How dare you,” Roberto hissed, clutching his arm to his chest as though Krem’s grip had wounded more than his pride.

 

“That was the Iron Bull’s property you were damaging,” Krem said, voice steady, hand still on his sword but not drawing it. Dorian resisted the urge to cling to Krem’s leg and instead sat up, wrapping his arms around his own knees, trying to still his trembling. There was blood trickling down the side of his face.

 

“It disobeyed me, and tried to attack me, I was merely reminding the slut of its place.” Some other warriors had appeared in the doorway and were watching silently, ready to intervene in a moment’s notice. They were Bull’s people, steadfast and loyal, and their presence widened the gap between Krem and the ambassador all the more.

 

“Dorian is not yours to reprimand,” Krem said coldly. “I suggest you gather you clothes and return to your colleagues. The Iron Bull will deal with you later.”

 

Roberto flushed, suddenly remembering his own nakedness, and scrambled to hide his embarrassment with more rage. “The Iron Bull will hear of this. I’ll see to it that you regret your interference. The Iron Bull needs my support if he’s to maintain control here.”

 

“I’m sure the Iron Bull needs nothing from you.” Krem watched steadily as Roberto pulled on his clothes. The man was glaring and muttering the whole while and as he stormed from the room, Krem indicated to some of the warriors to make sure Roberto made it back to his quarters.

 

The door closed quietly, ending the terse moment.

 

Krem didn’t face Dorian immediately, but picked up Dorian’s discarded blanket, wrapping it around Dorian’s still-shaking shoulders.

 

“Are you all right?” Krem asked gently, speaking more kindly to Dorian than he ever had before.

 

Dorian nodded even as he clutched the blanket tightly around himself. He was lying, he felt anything but okay. His body hurt, his face pulsing painful were Roberto had struck him.  Bruises were already starting to form across his stomach and chest where Roberto had kicked him, and while he couldn’t see them, he was sure they were forming on his face, too. The Iron Bull wouldn’t be pleased that, on top of everything else, Dorian’s good looks were marred by bruises from another man’s fist.

 

Krem’s hand was on his shoulder, and Dorian almost flinched away from the contact. He realised he was crying.

 

He had been so _good_ recently, and the Iron Bull had been so pleased with him, and had ruined all of that in a matter of minutes.

 

With that realisation all the low-key panic hit him all at once and he sobbed: a tight, broken sound.  Krem’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and Dorian resisted the urge to pull out of his grip. He didn’t want Krem’s pity, or for Krem to think he was trying to weasel his way out of his punishment by acting pathetically.

 

He sniffed, reaching up to wipe furiously at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be bad,” he whispered, and Krem looked at him, frowning.

 

“I’ll tell the Iron Bull what happened,” Krem said, and Dorian nodded worthlessly; of course Krem would report him to the Iron Bull. Dorian had to pull himself together before Bull inevitably came to punish him.  “Wait here.” Krem gave Dorian a final squeeze to his shoulder before he straightened up and strode from the room.

 

Dorian remained frozen on the spot for a moment, knuckles white as he gripped the blanket around him. Krem had told him to wait but his knees hurt on the ground, the cool stone of the floor digging into them. If he was going to be punished anyway, he doubted moving a couple of feet could get him in any more trouble.

 

He crawled to his bed, wincing slightly as he moved, and he was suddenly worried for more selfish reasons that Roberto had done some damage. He lay down gingerly on his bed, pulling the blanket over him to wait. He was still crying silently, unable to stop the frantic surge of feelings rising in his throat. He didn’t want to be crying when the Iron Bull got here.

 

He didn’t have enough time to compose himself before the door was opened again and the Iron Bull filled the doorway. He looked over Dorian, eyes darkening with thunderous fury, before he turned and very deliberately closed and locked the door behind him.

 

The Iron Bull crossed the room, pausing only when he was right in front of Dorian, towering over his slave. Dorian struggled to get up to his knees, body protesting, but the Iron Bull shock his head, and indicated with his hand for Dorian to remain where he was. The Iron Bull sighed and sat down before Dorian, crossing his legs.

 

“Krem told me what happened,” the Iron Bull said, softly, and Dorian couldn’t help but flinch. The Iron Bull’s large hand cupped the side of Dorian’s face, tilting it up so the Iron Bull could inspect the damage. He made a displeased noise.  Dorian wanted to apologise, to try and explain that he hadn’t known what he should do, but the Iron Bull spoke first. “I’m very sorry, Dorian. This shouldn’t have happened.”

 

Dorian gaped.

 

“I promised you no one else would lay a hand on you, but I let you get hurt.”

 

Dorian’s tears broke into full on sobbing and suddenly he was pulled onto the Iron Bull’s lap; he clutched at the Iron Bull’s shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline. Masters didn’t apologise to their slaves, and the Iron Bull didn’t play mind games with him; if the Iron Bull was saying these things then he really wasn’t angry.

 

“I was trying to be good,” Dorian gasped, trying to whisper, but his crying forced him to take loud, desperate breaths. He was an ugly crier, and he knew he was getting more than just tears on the Iron Bull, but his master didn’t seem to care. The Iron Bull simply sat and held Dorian tightly against his chest, firmly but carefully enough to not aggravate his wounds.

 

“You were, Dorian,” The Iron Bull said, “Very good. This wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should never have left you alone with him.”

 

The Iron Bull stood, gathering Dorian up into his arms, carrying him to the bed, placing him down gently on top of the covers. Dorian slackened his death grip on his blanket, and it sat around him more loosely.

 

The Iron Bull left him there but didn’t go far, just rummaging around in one of the drawers he kept some of the equipment for their sexual activities. Dorian’s heart leapt to his throat and he started panicking again, pulse pounding in his ears. If the Iron Bull wanted to fuck him, he of course wouldn’t refuse, but the idea made his insides churn. He was still sore from Roberto’s abuse and felt dirty from his touch.

 

The Iron Bull returned carrying a salve and a bowl of water and, noticing Dorian’s distress, placed a heavy hand on the back of Dorian’s neck, making soothing noises.

 

“It’s all right, Dorian. I just want to put something on your bruises. You good?” The Iron Bull asked, and Dorian nodded mutely. His heart still hammered angrily in his chest but was slowly steadying.

 

The Iron Bull pulled the blanket from Dorian’s shoulders and sat down on the bed next to him, encouraging Dorian to move close against him. Dipping a cloth into the water, he cleaned away the drying blood on Dorian’s skin from his split lip, telling Dorian how brave he was when Dorian flinched in pain.

  
Next, he started to rub the salve carefully into Dorian’s darkening skin. Even the light pressure hurt but Dorian remained still, knowing it would help in the long run; the Iron Bull’s touch was gentle, and did wonders for calming him down.

 

“My sweet boy,” The Iron Bull murmured, working the salve, other hand running idly along Dorian’s skin.

 

Dorian smiled, nuzzling closer against the Iron Bull who chuckled, bending to press a kiss to the side of Dorian’s temple. Dorian touched the skin there once the Iron Bull’s lips had gone, smile widening. The Iron Bull did lots of things that a master shouldn’t to a slave, but kisses were still rare and Dorian always treasured them.

 

The Iron Bull placed the items on the bedside table once he was finished.

 

“Thank you,” Dorian said, and the Iron Bull kissed him again, once, on the very corner of his mouth, tilting Dorian’s head up with one finger under his chin.

 

The Iron Bull pulled back the covers, and climbed under them, helping Dorian settle against the pillows, and passing Dorian several extra blankets. Dorian curled against the Iron Bull’s side, skin warm under his cheek.  The Iron Bull stroked up and down his arm.

 

“I thought you needed to address your followers?” Dorian asked. He didn’t want the Iron Bull to leave, but if he was going to, Dorian wanted to have some warning.

 

“Krem can handle it,” the Iron Bull said. “You’re my first priority.”

 

Smiling stretched the cut on his lip and caused it to burn but Dorian couldn’t bring himself to care. He smiled anyway.


End file.
